* * * *
“Christine.” The voice rang like crystal and flowed like water, a far cry from the flat, synthetic tones of the Archimedes. “Do not despair, lovely one.”
Christine could not help smiling at the endearment. No one had called her lovely for a very long time. She kept her eyes closed, willing the dream to continue.
“We are with you, Christine.” Deeper, richer, edged with laughter, another voice chimed in. “You are not alone.” A cool, soothing palm cupped her brow. Strong hands settled on her shoulders, drawing her upright, then slipped down to cradle her breasts. Luscious heat suffused her, focused on her suddenly-taut nipples. They were smouldering embers ready to burst into flame. Soft lips brushed her neck just below the hairline, sending shivers spiralling through her. Someone unknotted her hair and let the weight of it cascade freely down her back. She sighed as careful fingers eased out the tangles. Each gentle tug at her scalp was pure pleasure.
The caresses ceased for an instant while her chair swung away from the control panel. Then the sensations began again, delicious and irresistible—unseen hands kneading her breasts, a warm mouth nuzzling her earlobe, a teasing tickle tracing its way down her belly, firm pressure parting her thighs and the barest graze of a fingertip across her pubis. A fierce stab of delight ripped away her languid mood. She moaned, arching up towards the retreating finger. Laughter poured over her like dark honey.
“You like that, sweet?” asked the baritone. The finger returned, pressing into her nylon-covered cleft and sliding back and forth along her length.
Christine gasped. “Oh, yes…” Swirls of fluorescent colour danced on her closed eyelids. Familiar scents teased her nostrils, earth after a rain and new-mown grass. The finger moved faster. The soaked fabric of her coveralls slithered across her sensitised flesh. A climax gathered in her depths, heavy and full as summer thunderheads. “More,” she whispered, just as someone dragged the zip of her garment down below her waist. “More!” she yelled, as sharp teeth fastened on her bared nipple and hard digits plunged into her naked cunt.
Dozens of hands fluttered over her skin, strummed in her pussy, plucked at her swollen breasts. The ripe clouds burst. A torrent of pleasure flooded her senses. Her body dissolved. There was nothing left but pure ecstasy, vibrating through her being like celestial music.
“Open your eyes.” The higher voice, the one that shimmered like liquid starlight, spoke close to her ear. The suggestion filtered through her post-orgasmic haze. This dream is certainly tenacious, she thought, her limbs still tingling. Usually I wake up after I come.
“We’re here with you now,” added the earthy voice, from the other side. “Look upon us.”
Why should she resist? It was just a dream. Her eyelids felt leaden but she forced them apart.
A stranger stood to her right. He had marble-pale skin and hair like spun silver. Smoke-coloured brows shaded his piercing violet eyes. A pert nose and full lips gave him an androgynous look, but his lithe body was undeniably male—especially the column of rigid flesh that jutted from his groin.
Arousal flickered through Christine’s body, faint echoes of her recent climax. “Who are you?” she queried, her mouth watering at the sight of his sturdy erection. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Alyn,” the young man answered with a smile that stole Christine’s breath. His skin gleamed in the dim light of the bridge as though dusted with stars. Fat pink nipples winked at her from his smoothly muscled chest. She ached to touch them. As though he read her thoughts, he reached for her hand and drew it to his breast. “I’m here for you, Christine. To cherish and to comfort you.”
His skin was silk under her palm. She moulded the shape of his pectoral and flicked at the taut nub at its centre. His cock surged in response. A drop of clear moisture gathered at the tip. She wet her lips, suddenly hungry. “Alyn,” she repeated, rolling the name on her tongue.
“And I’m Zed,” came the deeper voice, from her left. She turned to gaze at the second man, taller and stockier than Alyn but equally beautiful. Zed had jet hair and ebony eyes. With his prominent cheekbones, broad mouth and bronzed complexion, he made Christine think of some ancient tribal warrior. A provocative grin lit his face. He seized her other hand and curled her fingers around his swollen cock. “This is for you, little one.”
Blood pulsed through his shaft. Her small hand could barely encompass his girth. She squeezed and felt him harden further. He thrust into her palm, satin-sheathed stone. Her pussy ached to feel him driving into her depths.
Alyn knelt before her and removed her sandals, then pulled her to her feet. “We’ve been waiting for you to awaken.”
Zed leant forward to push the coverall off of her shoulders. “We knew you’d need company.” In a few seconds she was naked. Zed’s cock nudged the back of her hand, playfully inviting her to renew possession.
The dream was remarkably vivid. Every nerve sparked as Alyn circled behind her, reaching around to clasp her breasts. He pressed himself against her, nestling his hardness in the valley between her buttocks while he teased her nipples and nibbled her neck. Meanwhile Zed slipped his blunt fingers into her soaked pussy. His thumb found her clit and lingered there. Bolts of electric pleasure sizzled through her.
“Oh, please…” she sighed, as Zed pushed another digit into her, then spread his fingers wide. She was empty and hungry, crazy with want. She needed to be filled. Zed’s cock, Alyn’s cock, she didn’t care which, but if someone didn’t fill her she thought she’d die.
“She’s ready,” murmured Alyn. Releasing her breasts, he parted her buttocks and drove into her pussy from behind. The force of his entry crushed her against Zed’s powerful frame. The bulb of the heavier man’s cock prodded her clit, waking fresh spasms of delight.
Zed gripped her hips, holding her steady while Alyn thrust deep and hard. She arched her back, grinding her ass against Alyn’s pubis and urging him on. She was full now, deliciously so, but she wanted more. Zed’s cock slid back and forth at her entrance, bumping on every stroke against the other man’s organ embedded in her sex. The thought of them touching, skin on skin, pushed her higher still, closer to the edge.
All at once Zed dug his nails into her flesh. His pelvis jerked, hard enough to knock her off her feet. With a massive thrust, he buried his organ in her well-lubricated cavity, next to Alyn’s shaft.
Christine screamed, stretched to the limit, certain she’d be torn apart. Then a thunderous wave of pleasure crashed down upon her, sweeping away the brief pain. The two men held her close, stilling their movements while she became accustomed to the double invasion.
She gasped for breath. The fullness was exquisite. Her cunt clenched around the two cocks. They swelled inside her, taking her over. They’ll come together, she thought, inside me, mingling their seed. The notion drove her wild.
Sensing her rising arousal, Alyn and Zed resumed their thrusts. Perfectly synchronised, they drew back then plunged together into her depths. Zed’s steely shaft grazed her clit on each stroke. Alyn’s balls slapped the backs of her thighs. Christine surrendered completely to their shared power. She floated on a cloud of delirious sensation, pleasure more acute than she’d ever known.
All at once, she realised that they actually were floating. The three of them writhed and squirmed a metre above the floor. Free fall, she thought, feeling giddy and strange. Without her sandals to anchor her, the force of Zed’s entry had propelled them all into the air. Even in my dreams, I can’t get away from physics.
Alyn clutched her shoulders, crying out in some foreign tongue. His cock shuddered and convulsed as he emptied himself into her depths. Zed followed an instant later, grinding his pelvis against her clit as he came. The friction served as the final spark to kindle her own climax. Thought whirled away. There was only pleasure, deep and satisfying, welling up from some place at the heart of her and spilling over.
Chapter Three
Christine awakened in her bunk. She didn’t rem
ember how she’d got there, but oh, she remembered her dream! She had never experienced anything like it. Maybe there’s something about suspension that stimulates the libido, she thought. Or maybe I’m already starting to become psychotic from the loneliness.
Her pussy felt sore and her thighs were sticky. She concluded that she must have been masturbating in her sleep. Her headache, however, was gone, and her mind felt sharper than it had since she’d come out of stasis. Plus she was hungry—ravenous, in fact.
She spent nearly ten minutes in the ultrasonic shower, trying to cleanse herself of the residue from her dream. The folds of her sex were tender and sensitive. The lightest touch made her squirm.
After dressing in loose pants, a T-shirt and her magnetic shoes, she made her way to the dining hall. Twenty empty chairs were ranged neatly around the elliptical table. The last time she’d been here, they’d been full, as the crew ate its last meal together before entering suspension. A vicious pang of sorrow knifed her chest.
She pushed her dark thoughts into the background, concentrating on the process of rehydrating and heating a freeze-dried food pack.
She should do something about the bodies. Standard procedure in the case of a death required her to notify Earth then wrap the corpse in a pressure suit and eject it into space. But there were nineteen corpses! Plus any message she sent today wouldn’t arrive for forty years.
Then there was the problem of the hole in the hull. “Request status of oxygen leak,” she called out as she flipped open the dispenser on a carton of orange juice. She sucked in a mouthful of the sugary liquid.
“Minimal leakage has been detected so far,” the computer answered. “However, the breach has grown by six-point-five centimetres since last report. Probability of complete atmospheric loss in the next twenty-four hours is point-five-three. Recommend EVA for repair should commence as soon as possible.”
She really didn’t feel like making the effort. What was the use? She’d die anyway, of starvation or madness. In the past, she’d always scorned people who committed suicide. Killing oneself had seemed both cowardly and grandiose. Now, at last, she could understand. It might be easier just to give up.
Suffocation, however, was supposed to be a horrible way to die.
It was her duty, too, to do whatever she could to further the mission, despite the enormous setbacks it had encountered. The primary objectives—a viable colony, a beachhead on a distant world—were obviously impossible to achieve, but she could observe and record and transmit her logs back to the home planet. Perhaps her data would be useful to future interstellar crews. Perhaps she could even figure out how they’d ended up so far from Earth in only four years—that at least was a puzzle for a physicist like herself.
Christine had never been the sort of person to neglect her duty.
With a sigh, she made her way to the antechamber near the exit bay and extricated her pressure suit from its locker. All of the crew had been trained in EVA procedures in case of emergencies. She wormed her way into the clumsy suit and fastened the collar around her neck, checking carefully that the seals were tight. Then she settled the transparent helmet into the collar and adjusted the microphone panel and earbuds.
“Download repair instructions,” she instructed the ship. A 3D virtual image of the Archimedes appeared, seeming to float just inside the helmet. She flicked her gaze to the right. The image rotated in response. Bright orange flashed on the surface of the hull, indicating the location of the rift. “Demonstrate repair sequence.” A tiny humanoid figure became visible next to the ship. She blinked twice and the image zoomed. She watched as the cartoon-like figure made its way to the glowing breach area.
“Recommended repair medium is nano-carbon foil,” the ship intoned. Christine checked that the tool pouch at her waist contained a roll of the super-strong material. “Fuse to the hull with hi-vo generator.” She pressed a button on her bulky sleeve and the paired electrodes poked out from her gloved palm, as expected. “Use two layers. Wait one hundred and eighty seconds between applications.”
The holographic display illustrated the procedure, which looked straightforward. Christine reviewed the steps three times, until she was confident she could execute it smoothly. She closed her eyes for five seconds to dismiss the display.
Well, there’s no point in waiting, she told herself. When she punched the oversized airlock button the iris-like door dilated to allow her entry. Once she had stepped over the threshold, it contracted behind her. The evacuation process started automatically. A gauge on the wall showed the pressure steadily dropping as air was siphoned into the ship.
Christine fought her panic, resisting the urge to gulp down air. Inside the pressure helmet, she could breathe normally. It was just hard to remain calm when the indicator showed she was surrounded by near-vacuum.
Finally the air pressure level reached zero. Christine unfurled the tether cable from the airlock wall and clipped it to the hook at the back of her suit. Her hand was steady as she pushed the exit control. The airlock spiralled open. Christine stepped out into space, her magnetic boots anchoring her to the hull.
The lack of familiar objects induced a profound sense of disorientation. Up and down had no meaning. She focused on the pitted metal surface of the ship and pulled herself along the huge spacecraft, using the hand patches as she had been taught.
Archimedes was shaped a bit like a doughnut impaled on a cigar—a disk-like structure mounted on the end of a cylinder. The disk-shaped section, about thirty metres thick and two hundred in diameter, housed the crew quarters, the hydroponic tanks, the suspension bay and other facilities for the human occupants. It rotated, producing a weak gravitational field. The cylinder that served as its axis contained the nuclear-powered engines, the water and air recycling plants, the guidance systems and similar mechanisms, as well as a launch area for the escape shuttle. Both sections bristled with sensors, antennae and other protrusions. Archimedes was intended to travel through the frictionless reaches of space. It didn’t need a streamlined profile.
The airlock exit was located on the backward-facing surface of the disk. The breach to be fixed was on the forward surface. Christine clambered over the edge of the disk and on to the front, towards the location pinpointed by the repair simulation. The tether snaked behind her like a kilometre-long tail.
The tear in the hull was small but obvious. Traces of escaping gas had tarnished the normally silvery metal. Christine retrieved the foil and tore off one pre-perforated sheet. Clumsy in her bulky gloves, she smoothed the ultra-thin material over the rift, then extruded the high-voltage electrodes. Fierce sparks ripped through the blackness as she sealed the foil to the hull. After-images swam in her vision while she waited the necessary three minutes before applying the second layer.
The second stage of the process posed no problem either. The carbon sheets were fused to the hull, closing the gap and rescuing her precious oxygen. The repaired section was probably stronger than the original material.
Letting out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, Christine allowed herself a moment of self-congratulation. She turned away from the ship to appreciate the emptiness around her. Her eyes had adapted. Now she could see the twinkle of distant stars, like gems studding the velvet blackness, the pale blurs that were galaxies. No one has ever travelled this far from home, she thought. Rather than fear, she felt a strange sense of exhilaration, akin to the excitement that gripped her when she resolved some knotty mathematical issue or confirmed the validity of a proof.
A memory from her childhood popped into her mind—sitting in the backyard with her grandma, peering into the glittering night sky. “I saw the first American go into space,” Nana had said. “Alan Shepard. I was in fourth grade. The whole school piled into the cafeteria to watch the launch on television. Black and white television,” she added with a laugh. “I was so excited I could hardly breathe. I decided that day that I wanted to be an astronaut. I had to see those wonders for myself.”
Of course, Nana hadn’t lived that dream. She’d become a teacher instead. Now, though, Christine was making that old fantasy real, floating free, embraced by the stars. It was amazing—awe-inspiring.
Then a delicate sadness crept over her. She’d never be able to share this feeling.
A red symbol flashed in the periphery of her vision, a routine warning that the suit oxygen supplies had reached seventy-five percent. That was enough for another four hours of EVA, but still, since her work was complete, she’d better get back inside.
She needed to reverse her orientation in order to climb back over the edge of the disk. Grasping a bracket with one hand, she gestured with the other to temporarily turn off the magnets in her boots. It was a gesture she’d practiced a hundred times during training, but something went wrong. She must have put too much force into the arm movement. The reaction tore her other hand from its grip and drove her body away from the ship.
The distance between her and the Archimedes grew wider by the second. Christine cursed her carelessness. She knew that one had to move slowly and deliberately at all times when performing EVA. Newton’s third law, that every action has an equal and opposite reaction, applied in space just as it did everywhere else. In space, though, there was no friction to slow objects down.
Christine was more annoyed than concerned. She knew she could pull herself back to the airlock using the tether. That’s what it was for. She reached behind her to grasp it, where it clipped to her belt. Only then did she feel fear. Her lifeline was gone.
She twisted to look behind her. The end of the tether dangled in space, metres away. How had it come undone? Had she failed to fasten it properly? She flailed about as she tried unsuccessfully to grab it.
Christine squeezed back the tears that threatened. They’d just float around inside the helmet, making it harder to see and breathe. She had to think. Her suit included mini-jets that could be used to propel her back towards the hull. However, she’d need to activate them at just the right angle and for just the right duration, or she’d fly past the ship and into space on the other side. The necessary vectors depended on her own speed and direction as well as on that of the ship. If she didn’t solve the problem, she’d soon be as dead as the rest of the crew. No one would ever know what had happened to any of them.
Bodies of Light Page 2